Clan
by Settiai
Summary: It took Mahariel longer than it should have to realize that something was wrong.


It took Mahariel longer than it should have to realize that something was wrong.

At first, she simply thought that she was tired. It had been a long few weeks (months, _year_ ), and even she had her limits. So when her peripheral vision blurred a little at the edges, she blamed the wine she was drinking and thought nothing of it. She did the same when the loud talking and laughter at the table around her faded to a dull roar in the background, more noise than actual speech. She had never had a strong tolerance for alcohol, so it wasn't that out of the ordinary for it to affect her more quickly than those around her.

It wasn't until she noticed that her hands were starting to shake, her almost empty glass slipping from her suddenly slack grip, that she realized she had underestimated the nobles of Amaranthine. She'd assumed that there was nothing to worry about after their botched assassination attempt, as crude and obvious as it might have been.

She should have known better from shemlen like them.

"—mander, is something the matter?"

The voice coming from just beside her was familiar, but for some odd reason she couldn't quite place it. Her thoughts seemed to be coming slower and slower, and while a distant part of her knew that she should be worried, at that moment it seemed much too difficult to drum up even that emotion.

"Commander?"

Mahariel had never realized just how much effort it took to simply turn her head. Then there was suddenly a hand on each side of her face, turning it for her, and she relaxed into the motion.

Nathaniel was staring at her with wide eyes, a worried look on his face. A part of her couldn't help but feel at least a hint of amusement. It hadn't been that long ago that he had been trying to kill her himself. When she'd first met him, had first conscripted him into the Wardens, she'd expected that he would try to knife her in the back within a week.

She never would have expected to see him wearing an expression like the one he had on his face at the moment. Not for her sake, at least.

"Commander?" Nathaniel asked again, his tone more urgent. She wondered how many times he'd already repeated his question without her hearing it. "Commander, can you hear me?"

It took her several attempts before she could force her mouth to form words. "Poison," she said. Or, at least, she tried to say it. The word came out so slurred that she could barely understand it herself.

Nathaniel must have gotten the gist, as his face hardened at once. His gaze fell on the wine glass that lay on its side on the table.

He dropped his hands from her face, spinning around in his chair. "Anders!"

Mahariel wasn't certain when the slight blurring at the corners of her vision had spread, but without Nate's grip holding her in place she felt the world start to spin around her. She reached for the edge of the table, not surprised when her body didn't cooperate.

She didn't quite realize she was falling until she had already hit the ground.

There was a flurry of movement that she couldn't quite make out, and then a pair of strong hands were lifting her head up from the floor. It took her a moment, but she eventually realized that her head was resting in someone's lap. She blinked, a blurry face slowly coming into focus. Red hair. Red beard. The smell of liquor rolling over her in waves, more comforting than sickening after all these months.

Oghren's hands were surprisingly gentle as they brushed her hair out of her eyes. He was wearing a too-serious expression that she'd only seen on his face a handful of times before. The Anvil of the Void. The Gauntlet. Fort Drakon.

His mouth was moving as if he was trying to say something to her, but she heard nothing but wordless noise.

The world faded for a moment, or maybe it was an eternity. All Mahariel knew was that she had certainly missed at least some amount of time, because the next thing she was aware of she was gasping for air, the taste of stale ale and a tang she thought might have been lyrium in her mouth, and Anders was pulling his lips away from hers.

"Commander, can you hear me?" Anders asked sharply, looking her straight in the eyes.

She blinked once or twice, trying to get her befuddled mind to work. Then she nodded, surprised at how difficult it was to make even that tiny movement.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, and in that second he looked much older than she thought he actually was. Then he reopened them, and he was once again the light-hearted mage who had won her trust with a sheepish grin and a fireball to the nearest hurlock. She'd seen the crack in his mask, though, and she knew where to look to find its seams.

His lightheartedness didn't quite make it to his eyes.

"I need you to stay awake," Anders said gently, and Mahariel knew right then that the situation had to be bad.

She recognized his healer voice in an instant. That was the voice he'd used when Nathaniel had taken an arrow to the thigh that had bled much more quickly than it should have. That was the voice he'd used when a misstep had sent Sigrun sliding into the river, none of them realizing that she couldn't swim until it had almost been too late. That was the voice he'd used when Oghren had keeled over after a fight, blood streaming from a head wound that none of them had even noticed him getting.

"What—?" she tried to ask, that single slurred word taking as much strength as fighting the archdemon had. She wasn't even completely certain what she was asking in the first place. What had happened? Where were the others? Was everyone safe?

Anders gave her a reassuring smile that still didn't quite meet his eyes. Then he reached down and smoothed her hair, brushing a few loose strands of it out of her face.

"Everything's fine," he said, that gentle tone still in his voice. "They shut up the Keep the moment we realized what was happening. I've purged as much of the poison out of your system as I could, and as soon as Velanna gets back here with some more lyrium I'll get back to work."

She hadn't even noticed how drained and exhausted Anders looked until just then. Her eyes widened a little as she took in his appearance, and it suddenly hit her just much magic he must have already poured into her if he looked that bad. Mahariel had realized distantly, in the back of her mind, that whatever poison they had used must have been potent. Looking at Anders, she realized just how dangerous the situation must have been. How close it must have been.

Judging by how she felt, how close it might still _be._

As if he was reading her mind, Anders chuckled. "Don't give me that look," he said teasingly, a bit more like his usual self than the healer he'd been a moment before. "It was your turn, after all. Do you think I can put up a request that we skip right over Velanna and Justice getting life-threatening injuries? I'd much rather go back to Nate. He could get shot in the leg again! Fun times, right?"

"Anders," she said, trying to put her usual blend of fond amusement and chastisement into her voice. Judging by the way his face fell, ever so slightly, she didn't quite succeed.

Anders leaned down suddenly, pressing a quick kiss against her forehead. It was completely chaste, the kiss of a brother rather than a lover, but it still burned like fire against her skin.

"Don't do something like this again," he said harshly as he pulled away. "I can't—" He glanced away, not meeting her gaze. "I'm a healer. I don't like my patients almost dying on me. It makes me look bad."

The words he didn't say were as clear as the ones he had.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to give him a reassuring pat on the hand or the arm, to let him know that she was fine and she wasn't going anywhere. Just the thought of trying to force her arm to move was exhausting, though, and—no matter what Tamlen had always said—she was willing to admit her limits when she reached them. Sometimes, at least.

Mahariel let out a tired sigh and closed her eyes for just an instant…

… and when she opened them, the world had shifted around her again. The hard floor under her back had disappeared, replaced by the familiar comfort of her bed.

She blinked a few times. Then, without thinking, she attempted to push herself up into a sitting position. A pained groan escaped her lips the moment she tried to move, and she immediately put that idea to rest for the time being.

"Oh, you're awake!"

Mahariel glanced to her right, only a little surprised to see Sigrun sitting in a chair beside her bed, clapping her hands together excitedly and wearing a giant grin on her face.

"What happened?" she asked.

Or, at least, she tried to ask it. Her mouth felt as dry as sand, and what came out was more of a croak. Sigrun's grin faded a little, and she stood up from the chair she was sitting in.

On the other side of the bed, somewhere behind Mahariel where she couldn't see them, someone made a disgruntled noise.

Mahariel tried to muster the energy to turn over, a rush of panic shooting through her at the thought of someone being behind her that she couldn't see. Before she could convince her body to move, though, her head was being lifted up and a cup was pressed to her lips.

"Drink," Velanna said brusquely, coming into view. "Only a little for now. If you make yourself sick, I will not be cleaning the mess."

"I will," Sigrun said quickly.

Velanna made another noise deep in her throat, but she didn't argue. She was too busy pulling the cup away from Mahariel's mouth with a frown, despite the fact that Mahariel had barely managed more than a sip or two.

"More," Mahariel choked out, the sound a little clearer now that she had at least some moisture in her mouth. "Please, more."

Velanna ignored her. "You should go tell the others she's awakened," she said to Sigrun.

Sigrun nodded and all but dashed out of the room.

Mahariel licked her chapped lips. Before she could try to say anything else, though, the cup was suddenly being pressed to her mouth again.

"Small swallows," Velanna said quietly. Her hands were still pressed against the back of Mahariel's head, supporting it so that she could drink.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Velanna had been her clan's First. She was nothing like Merrill, cold and abrasive where her clanmate had been warm and welcoming, but there were times when her training would show through. Times where Mahariel could truly see the type of Keeper that Velanna might have one day become, if her path hadn't taken her down the road it had.

"Thank you," Mahariel said softly as Velanna pulled the cup away again, obviously hesitant to let her drink any more just then.

Velanna simply nodded.

"They found the shemlen who poisoned the wine," Velanna said after a moment or two. "They were going to put them in the dungeon until you awakened so that you could determine their punishment."

Mahariel frowned. "Were?" she repeated.

"They fought back," Velanna said, not even attempting to sound anything but smug. "They were killed. It was a tragedy."

Despite how weak she felt, Mahariel felt her mouth twitch slightly. She knew that she should say something. She knew that it would have been wiser to keep them alive for questioning in order to make certain the conspiracy truly had ended. But… a clan took care of its own.

As if she knew exactly what Mahariel was thinking, Velanna smiled. It was a cold smile, almost predatory, but it was still a smile.

There was loud talking drifting in through the open door, and the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor. Mahariel knew it was the rest of her Wardens hurrying to check on her, to make certain she would be fine.

Her Wardens. Her friends. Her clan.

Mahariel couldn't help it. She smiled as well.


End file.
